


So as your storm through the darkness I want to bathe you in the morning light

by prettyskylark



Category: The Queen's Gambit (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Beth may be emotionally unavailable but she’s fierce about it, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I just wanted Benny gently taking care of Beth, but without it sounding like him tending to an incapable broken child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:47:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27924748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyskylark/pseuds/prettyskylark
Summary: The anniversary of Alma's passing haunted Beth in New York.
Relationships: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts
Comments: 20
Kudos: 223





	So as your storm through the darkness I want to bathe you in the morning light

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song "Mother Song" by Westerman.

“One more, please. _The last one_.”

A line of emptied glasses, a clutter of _the last ones_ separated Beth from the rest of the bar, creating both a fortress and a prison. The lights swam and flickered around her, people a loud blur and even the counter she was heavily leaning on stopped providing the comfort of steadiness because it felt as if it was spinning to the beat of the distant music. She would have ordered another one, and then another until the ground slipped from under her and she wouldn’t know the difference between the hardwood floors of New York City’s bar and the carpeted ground in her house in Kentucky. The only problem was the last dollar bill filling up the space of her purse, an obstacle she had no way of avoiding because she would not give in to the hungry stares of old men gawking at the side of her bare leg just to have someone else settle her bill.

Beth put her lips to the rim of the glass and shakily tipped it. The sweetly sour taste of Gibson slid down her throat. She has drunk so much of it tonight she thought her taste buds would only be capable of recognizing the nothing else but drink from now. One after the other she filled herself up with gin and hoped that maybe if it was the only thing she felt she would be able to grasp the presence of her adoptive mother.

But that made a fatal flaw in her plan. She shouldn’t ponder the reason of her drinking because she wasn’t drinking to forget. If you didn’t think at all then you had no way of remembering and that was the goal Beth had set for herself for the night. The taste of Gibson and nothing else, not even the sense of self.

She put down the last glass with a little bit too much force but had no more space within herself for the wave of thankfulness that it didn’t crack and the barman didn’t have to add it to her bill as well. Having paid she put her feet on the floor and the floor swayed like a ship during the storm of Beth’s life. She had to focus on simple tasks, no way to plan the game ahead. A Queen with no strategy, open for unexpected attracts. Ten steps forward to the doors. Then two diagonal and out onto the street.

She had thankfully made the decision to choose a pub not far away from home, back when there had still been time for sober decision-making, as a future gift to her current state. Streets of New York were different from streets of Kentucky, even at night. The city truly never slept and sometimes it annoyed Beth, for she wanted to be left alone with her thoughts, trapped in the solitude of silence but most of the time she was glad for the constant companionship of restless streets and curious buildings.

Two more blocks and she would make it. Her fingers started twitching, reaching out for something to do or hold on to so she opened up the tiny purse to fish out a cigarette just to have something to focus on. The pack fell onto the pavement and its contents scattered across the dirty concrete. The distance from up where she was standing to the ground felt too great though so she decided to leave them be, walking over them, stepping on one in the process.

Beth could swear they magically added new steps while she was gone to make the staircase longer. The journey downstairs looked like an actual journey and she briefly contemplated curling on the curb and falling asleep instead of risking breaking her neck while coming down. She leaned against the wall for support and put her foot forward. One after the other. Somewhere in the middle the number of stairs passed the number of drinks she had drunk that night and the taste of Gibson remaining at the back of her tongue turned from pleasantly sour to nauseously acidic. Just when a wave of gratitude washed over her at the sight of the awaited entrance she tripped on the last step and hit her knee against the door. She cursed under her breath out of habit but the dull pain didn’t come, properly anesthetized by the gin coursing through her veins.

Beth opened the door as quietly as she could have, as the familiar, warm smell of Benny’s basement enveloped her senses, apparently already having forgotten the door accident and hoping to fall into the arms of sleepy oblivion without much fuss of being noticed.

To no vain.

The analytical part of Beth’s brain never gave up and through her inebriated state she noticed many things at once, cataloging and comprehending them at the back of her mind. The dim light was on and a half-emptied mug of coffee stood on the kitchen table right next to a carelessly abandoned chessboard. A leather coat hung on the back of the chair rather than the rack in the corner. And Benny stood in front of that whole picture, silent, with boots on his feet. It took Beth a few second to drag her eyes up to his face, dreading what she would find written across his features.

“You said no booze in the house.”

That was the part of her night that she hadn’t planned. She knew she had wanted to go out and get drunk and she knew she had had to come back, otherwise Benny would have flipped even harder. An irritated spark travelled up her spine, electrifying her nerves and waking them up for a surely upcoming fight. She was used to the freedom of independency, of no parent (bad association, _don’t_ go there now) or possible partner checking up on her and bounding her down. Alma (the ghost of her eyes swam in front of Beth’s face and it was too late to go back now) had been more a friend to Beth than a parental figure. She hadn’t taken on trying to raise her like a mother would have, instead providing support and company along the twisted way. She hadn’t put Beth up to any higher standards, neither had she omitted any flaws that her adopted daughter had displayed. They had both taken care of each other. The memories of her mother ignited more rebellion within her and she had no intention of explaining her actions and if Benny decided to draw the consequences then she wouldn’t put up with that. The selfish part of her would rather put the blame on him for making her want to leave just to not endure the upcoming rant than be called irresponsible for staying the night god-knows-where, intoxicated no less, without as much as a word.

Their eyes finally met and it somehow hurt her more than if he would have yelled at her. There was no accusation in his gaze. No blame nor disappointment. Only worry slowly melting away, replaced by so much care and a trace of understanding that she felt like throwing up. Beth had to look away and a tiny movement caught her attention.

It was her own reflection moving in the mirror, glancing back at her with eyes wide open. It felt as if she was looking at herself from a third person’s perspective. Barely visible streaks of dried up mascara pooled under that Beth’s eyes and faded down the sides of her cheeks. Her lipstick, a painfully familiar shade that Alma used to put on during special events like holidays and Beth’s tournaments, stayed only on the outline of her lips, the rest eaten or rather drunk away. She has seen herself like that before but she had never had any witnesses.

Benny finally moved and Beth was certain he would walk past her and leave the apartment. Instead he walked to his room in silence and grabbed a blanket from his mattress, gently took hold of her elbow and guided her up up up the stairs (goddamned those stairs again) until the emerged into the relatively fresh air of the New York City at night. Benny sat her down on the curb, draped the blanket over her shoulders and went back down to the apartment. A ridiculous thought crossed her mind that he’d left her there, merciful enough to leave her something to cover herself with but otherwise ruthlessly trying to teach her some sort of a lesson. She closed her eyes, shielding herself from the world around her but the world started spinning from left to right. She didn’t understand any of what was happening. Soon the echo of his incoming steps reached her ears again and she felt his gentle fingers putting a cool glass of water into her hands. As she lifted it to her lips and took the first sip he sat beside her. The blanket smelled like his bed, like _him_ and Beth tried to concentrate on the warmth radiating from that point on her body where their shoulders were touching. Benny still didn’t say anything but she heard him breathing slowly, loudly and soon realized he was guiding her, waiting for her to follow. So she took deep breaths with him, inhale through the nose and exhale through the lips. The numbness of the alcohol started wearing off but the nausea wasn’t going away. And Beth was so, _so_ tired, tired of people dying on her, on people leaving her, of having to take care of herself when she was never taught _how_ , but she couldn’t fall asleep, not on the curb and certainly not when she still wanted to throw up. Whenever her head started dropping from exhaustion she felt Benny’s finger gently coming under her chin to bring her face up, keeping her awake. Whenever she finished her glass of water he untangled it from her fingers and went back for another one. To help her sober up enough to fall asleep without needing to hurl and to soothe the upcoming hangover that would surely assault her tomorrow morning.

Benny didn’t baby her, didn’t hold her to mend the pieces that were broken, didn’t promise everything would be okay, didn’t even try to make her feel better. He knew nothing would and besides he was not that kind of a person that sugarcoated the bad and the dirty. Instead – he embraced it with calmness. But he stayed by Beth’s side until she silently nodded so he stood up to help her make her way back to the apartment. Benny took the now empty glass of water from her in case she accidently dropped it and she surprised them both by tentatively taking his other hand in hers.

He made sure she didn’t trip on her own feet this time and once they were back inside he led her to his small bedroom and helped get into bed. She closed her eyes and waited for the mattress beside her to dip with a familiar weight. Instead she heard shuffling coming from another side of the apartment and then the monotonous sound of the air mattress being pumped. She didn’t question it at first, just focused and timed her breathing in sync with it. Three pumps inhale, three pumps and then a long exhale.

Beth shuffled and turned, glad the pitch blackness behind her closed eyelids didn’t spin anymore. She counted every other heartbeat of hers, still not being able to fall asleep. Clear thoughts started coming back to her but not the hurtful ones this time. Her mind wandered to the figure sleeping in solitude in the other room. Benny wanted to give her some space in case she preferred to be alone but didn’t want to banish her to the discomfort of sleeping on the makeshift bed so he was the one to sleep elsewhere. That thoughtful act of care made her chest feel too tight with an unfamiliar emotion. Surprisingly the space around her felt more empty than spacious. Without thinking too much about it she stood up tentatively just in case a sudden wave of sickness hit her again and padded barefoot through the darkness to the other room. She could barely see a thing but a distinctive rectangle shape pooled like a dense black hole on the floor in front of her. Beth lowered her swaying body and felt the soft mattress under her knees. She awkwardly crawled on all fours under the thin blanket covering Benny’s slender form. He instinctively raised one arm for her to tuck under. There was not enough space for both of them to fit comfortable, for the mattress clearly was designed for only one person, so they moved in closer, limbs tangling and bodies pressing together. The heat coming from him seeped directly into Beth’s bones, warming up her insides.

“I’m sorry for leaving you.” He mumbled into the top of her head. It was the first thing he said to her that night.

“I know you didn’t leave me. But I wanted to come to you anyway.”

After a beat of silence Benny placed a delicate kiss to Beth’s hair. His fingers traced small circles on her back that melted all the knots of stress and pain. Beth’s hazy brain knew they were talking about the present but had she been more sober she would have found a deeper meaning behind their words, ones maybe referring to the events from the past as well. In both cases her reply remained the same.


End file.
